


Hiraeth

by peachesofkeen



Category: Sleep No More - Punchdrunk
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Flash Fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesofkeen/pseuds/peachesofkeen
Summary: Hiraeth (n); Welsh; a home sickness to a home which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was, the nostalgia, the yearning, the grieve for the lost places of your past"We can never go back to Manderley again."100-ish word flash vignettes.
Relationships: Bargarran/J. Fulton (Sleep No More)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

> Taxi/Fulton, Porter, Campbell
> 
> *See tags for trigger warnings

1\. “Will nature make a man of me yet?” - Taxi/Fulton 

Stitching is something we share. I cannot not say that the Tailor stitches life from cloth, but I most assuredly stitch a perverse echo of life from death. Can this Cunning Man do that? Does he presume his own power? A warden of the dark night of the soul? Through the warped, smoky panes of my shop, I glare across the street towards this self-righteous starling, threading together his nests of protection through this town. Nothing escapes my eyes of glass, molded into long mute skulls, and yet, I see no one else in this town worth saving. 

2\. “If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?” - Porter 

In the early days, he tried everything - quail feather lock picks, caked shoe polish on creaking hinges, fists taken to mahogany doors whose color was so deep that when the blood ran from his broken hands it only varnished the wood. The ratio of pitiable attempts to escape soon paled in comparison to the bottles of the roughly hewn intoxicating poison he consumed. Bipedal, crawling, or in a pine box, the method of departure became logarithmically irrelevant. Perhaps, he sourly wagered, if he had enough before She cut his thread, he could forget himself as completely as everyone else would when he was gone. 

3\. “Wake up and smell the coffee, is your cup half full or empty?” - Campbell (Danvers)

It’s all a matter of perspective. A master, a mistress, a bedsheet – they can all be changed. The sea – its soothing tides come and go as the pendulum swings. A glass can be refilled – no need to cry over spilt milk. _Nihil sub sole novum._ I live to serve, and to serve again. Bedrooms are such intimate places; how certain and quick they are in their trust of me. It’s easy, isn’t it? No need to over think it. Is it a kiss of life or is it one of a fated death? They have their games, but I have time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping to continue this series - maybe more lyrics prompts, words, quotes. 
> 
> Nihil sub sole novum = Nothing new under the sun.
> 
> _Prompts from:_
> 
> _https://a-cure-for-writers-block.tumblr.com/post/190494481567/100-song-lyric-prompts_
> 
> 1\. The Smiths, This Charming Man _(spot the word play)_  
>  2\. Lynyrd Skynyrd, Free Bird  
> 3\. Billie Eilish, come out and play  
> Chapter title - Arctic Monkeys, Snap Out Of It  
> 


End file.
